


Measuring Up

by SlytherinSweetheart1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aliens made him show his junk, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 15:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20876318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinSweetheart1/pseuds/SlytherinSweetheart1
Summary: “Sir, I know we like to engage in dick measuring competitions as much as the next country, but this seems a bit too literal for my liking.”





	Measuring Up

“You will need O’Neill for this.” Teal’c, intones, but Sam can hear the amusement in his voice.  
“Without being inappropriate, Sir, we believe that you would be the most comfortable in this... errr ...environment.” The Washington lackey stammers. Around the briefing room table, no one is making eye contact.  
“If you want a chance to compete, you need O’Neill.” Teal’c presses.  
“With all due respect, we believe that due to your height and demeanour you would be the... more imposing candidate.”  
Daniel looks pained. “Trust me, Mr Loodine, Jack is best suited for this.”  
Under the table, she can feel the Colonel kick at Daniel. Sam can’t help but internally be both horrified and fascinated. What do the boys of her team know that she doesn’t?  
The General clears his throat. “The United States Airforce doesn’t have a habit of.. exposing.. - And at that Daniel loses all composure to laugh - ....it’s people, but we all know how important these negotiations are.”  
“Sir, I know we like to engage in dick measuring competitions as much as the next country, but this seems a bit too literal for my liking.” The Colonel just seems tired to her, resigned.  
“I will need your consent, Sir.” Mr Loodine prompts. Sam watches the Colonel nod, and she can almost feel rather than hear the exhale of “oh for crying out loud”.  
—-

It’s all quick from there. Mr Loodine is at their pre mission health check. He keeps harassing Janet with side glances and furtive whispers and Sam can narrow down almost to the precise second when Janet is going to snap. “We don’t need a penis pump!” She flings the words at him, hand on her clipboard, trying to contain her impatience.  
“Hey! ... I think” the Colonel objects. He seems oddly quiet and Sam wonders if he he feels more uncomfortable or violated than he is letting on.  
“I’m simply concerned that no one is taking this seriously.” Mr Loodine whines.  
“As their physician I can assure you that this matter is being handled appropriately.” Janet adds, and she’s now on the verge of giggling, too.  
Sam can see the Colonel slouch further, and she wonders, briefly, if he’s *shy*. The force of his personality has become entirely contained, and like a cat seeking sunshine, Sam finds herself drifting closer to him.

—-

Off world, the Colonel seems more relaxed. He still refuses to acknowledge their Washington assortment of goons, and refuses to make eye contact with Sam. They are in a tent, preparing for the main event of the festival. Although preparing is the wrong word, mostly they are waiting and eating. Teal’c has been conscripted for the feats of strength competitions. The food available, Sam learns from the eager diplomat, is the native aphrodisiacs.The Colonel touches none of it. 

Daniel continues the briefing “Apparently the winner get cast in a mold and replicas are handed out to the festival attendees. Wow. That would.... would you feel weird knowing someone may use it?” 

The Colonel’s head jerks up, and now he’s looking at her. Sam knows she’s blushing down to her roots. His voice is low and honey thick. It seems to be just for her.  
“Nah, I’d be ok with that.” Oh boy. 

—-  
Within no time, the competition begins. Sam wonders if she should stay behind, but the fascination itches. She wants to see him.  
Her feet are on autopilot as they follow Daniel and the diplomats to the staging area. The revellers are out in force, some inebriated, others euphoric, and the phallus is featured everywhere. 

The men are welcomed with cheering and applause. The competitors are ushered on stage, and a hush falls over the clearing. Sam realises that as much as it seems ridiculous to her, this is a sacred event for these people.

An official with a comically too-large ruler begins to talk. Fertility. Virility. But Sam doesn’t care. She had brushed up against his “side piece” a time or two and knows he is no slouch, but these men are bigger and taller and younger and she so desperately wants him to show them who’s boss - a feeling she doesn’t really understand the origin of. 

The undressing and exposure is unceremonious. They each simply undo their belt and drop their pants. Some of the erections are truly impressive. One or two of the men clearly have performance anxiety, their penises lying flaccid. A tall boisterous man walks off stage before the official comes near him. 

Sam sees none of it. She can’t look. She promised herself she won’t look. 

Our of the corner of her eyes she can see men who are no longer in the running being escorted off stage. The official hasn’t even done any measuring, she thinks, slight hysterical even in her own mind. Within minutes, it’s the Colonel and two others. Sam focuses on his standard issue boots and refuses to look. 

The people in the audience start calling out suggestions and it makes Sam burn with shame.

“Come on, Jack!” She can hear Daniel cheering. The sound of his voice makes her glance up. The sight is mesmerising. Tanned skin, dark curls, and oh. Oh boy,  
Jack O’Neill is impressively a ‘show-er’. Sam thinks she may wake up any second.  
Now that she’s watching she tries to look at the others too, to take it in as a scientist, an observer.  
One man is gorgeous, all pale smooth, and a majestic cock. The other is vaguely threatening. Both men other than the Colonel are clearly getting aroused. 

That seems to do the trick, the crowd cheers, the official begins measuring. It looks like the Colonel is about to leave in third place, and Sam finally looks at his face - expecting to see relief. Instead, his expression is blank. She offers a small smile, in comfort and solidarity but the eye contact seems to be the wrong approach. His eyes hold her captive, they bore into her. He takes in her blush, the parting of her lips, the way her tongue darts to moisten them. On stage, he begins to thicken and lengthen, his erection straining well past what Sam would consider comfortable. 

The moment between them stretches forever. The screaming and cheering around her is drowned out. When the official hooks a wreath of flowers around the Colonel’s erection, Sam wonders if she’s about to faint. 

For the first time, she thinks maybe there is no shame in running away.

—-

Out of all of the souvenirs Sam has brought home over the years, the PX2-157 cast is probably the most often used.


End file.
